Cochise's Stronghold

My!  What a wonderful, unexpectedly great day!  And it's not over yet!  We're turn left onto the loop road headed back to the Interstate.  (Hopefully we will find our way into Cochise's Stronghold before we reach the Interstate.)

Finally, we see a sign. (Not a very impressive one - as if Cochise wasn't so sure he wanted all us easterners to know his secrets).  Granpa hangs a left, and very quickly we run out of pavement.  It is so close to sunset he's not certain he wants to go on, but I urge him forward.  Finally we see an interpretive sign, and I urge him to stop.  (I know, I know.  Women always want men to hurry up and wait.  You'd think we invented the government or something!)

So, I'm out snapping quickies of the sign, and suddenly Granpa is saying, "Pig!  Get a picture of the pig in the road!"  My brain is thinking, pig?  As in pink and squealy? or pig as in wild hogs back home!?  I swing around and snap as quickly as I can with no zoom.  Missed it.  Oh, wow, here comes another. I zoom and focus as fast as I can.

Yes, boss, this is a Javelina!  Officially known as the collard peccary, they apparently weren't around during Cochise's day.  They migrated up from South America in the very late 1800's or early 1900's. Currently they are only found in the USA in Arizona, New Mexico and Texas - but their range is still spreading northwest.  Being tropical in origin they mate year-round and are sexually mature at ten months - which means they have the greatest reproductive potential of all North American "big" game.  But not to worry.  Coyotes and eagles gobble up the babies, and bobcats and mountain lions gorge on the adults, reducing an average lifespan from 24 years in captivity to 7 or 8 in the wild.

We also find deer - which were here during Cochise's time.  This is one advantage of being here toward the end of the day, the wildlife moving.

Cochise was born in these Dragoon Mountains in 1815.  He is supposedly buried somewhere deep in there today.  No one knows for certain.  He was a friend to the white man, until one of them accused him of something he didn't do - and then all hell broke out.  For about a dozen years, from 1860 to 1872, the U.S. Cavalry battled Cochise and his men.  Ultimately, Cochise was forced onto a reservation.

This is Granpa's first picture of the Stronghold.  Buried back in there are secret watering holes and plenty of game to feed a large group of resistance fighters.

We are very quickly losing daylight.  (I refuse to be upset.  I've waited a long time to get here, but Granpa has been so great about this whole crazy day, I refuse to be upset.)

This is a small camping ground, with pit toilets but no showers.  There is a short, paved trail with lots of interpretive signs.

We learn that the Spaniards, who were first through here in 1540 looking for the Seven Cities of Gold, called these mountains "sierra muy penascosa" or very rugged mountains.  They weren't called the Dragoons until some 300 years later - the 1850's.  Dragoons were mounted Mexican or American soldiers armed with rifles - and one of those dragoons is supposedly buried somewhere up there with Cochise!

It's really quite beautiful here.  Serene.  Wish we had a tent!

In 1872, after Cochise's surrender, Captain John A. Sladen came up here with some of Cochise's people.  He finally saw, and understood why, it took a dozen years to uproot Cochise.  It was indeed a perfect fortress with miles of visibility allowing Cochise to see troops coming hours before they could physically get here.  Once here, Cochise had the high ground and every boulder was a protection for his men.  They could stand their ground or, at the very least, provide cover for the women and children as they escaped to the other side of the mountain and vanished.

Deer, antelope, squirrel, cottontail rabbits, oppossum, rats were found in abundance and shared by all the Chiricahua in camp.  Walnuts, acorns, sunflower seeds, mesquite tree beans, yucca fruit and juniper berries were also a staple in the Stronghold diet.  A stream ran through the mountains almost deep enough for a canoe, so water was not a problem.  Golly, even I could live fat and sassy here! Nowadays, of course, a cannon could reduce this to a sandlot in no time at all - not to mention what a few air strikes would do to resisters.

When Cochise died in 1874, he was brought here on his favorite horse.  The horse was killed and thrown into a deep chasm.  Then Cochise's favorite dog was killed and ceremonially thrown in. Finally, Cochise himself, with his favorite weapons, was lowered down with ropes.  No one has yet to find this secret place.

We must go now.  You can tell how reluctant I am.  But it can only get darker, and the things I came to see will be cloaked in the night.  There is a reverence felt about this place.  And that's okay, because great people lived here and great people are buried here.  It is good.

I want to come again.  For sure.

The Echo Canyon Grottoes

Everything we see is utterly amazing.  

The weather is so gorgeous that we decide to take a one mile hike.

This is definitely one place that I could set up camp and spend a whole week in just browsing the scenery.  Every turn brings new wonders.  How could the Grottoes be better than any of this?



In the distance we see a rock formation known as Cochise's Head.  Imagine that he is lying on his back.  See the Roman beaked nose and the signature Apache headband, and, is that a war bonnet he's wearing?  (It works at a glance but gets lost if you stare at it.)  If I were to show you a super-zoomed photo you would see, believe it or not, that the eyelashes are made of trees.


There are balancing rocks everywhere.  There are so many that you will have to come see them all yourself in the context of the rest of the fabulous landscape.  (So much for me doubting the trip here!) The path is delightfully easy and just continues to draw us ever onward.  Granpa has completely forgotten the rest of our plans for this day.

I can just imagine young Apache Indians playing on these trails -- or young lovers like Lillian and Ed Riggs -- or old lovers like Granpa and I.

Come on, Granpa!  You're holding up the parade! (Well, not really, we're practically the only ones on the mountain.)

See how flat the trail is?  It's been like this the whole way.

At last we reach the Grottoes.

Granpa is in hog heaven, as we say in Texas:

The shadows are lengthening, and we still have to get off the mountain, around the loop road, find Cochise's Stronghold, discover his bones and get back to Casa Grande before we tucker out.  We give a couple of shouts into Echo Canyon (and, yes, it is an excellent echo!), and head for the car.

Lillian's "Wonderland of Rocks"

We leave the Visitor Center and begin to work our way up the mountain.  We are now both convinced that this is a trip not wasted!

You see, back in the day, say, twenty-seven million years ago, give or take a millennium, this area erupted at what we now call the Turkey Creek Caldera.  She was a doozy - a thousand times greater than Mount St. Helen's - and she laid the foundation for the marvels we will see today.  Two thousand feet of ash and pumice fused into rhyolitic tuff.  Over the eons, this stuff eroded into something similar to Bryce Canyon, only it's not red sandstone.

Not only is the scenery fantastic (you ain't see nothin' yet!), but this 18-square-mile Monument is the intersection of the "Chihuahuan and Sonoran deserts, the southern Rocky Mountains and the northern Sierra Madre in Mexico. Chiricahua plants and animals represent one of the premier areas for biological diversity in the northern hemisphere."  Things are getting very interesting!




My mercy!  How will I ever decide which photos to share with you !?!  We are positive that this is the largest collection - almost unending - of balancing rocks we've ever seen.

It is only an 8 mile road to the top, but the photo ops cause us to take forever to get there. Environments like this have been dubbed "Islands in the Sky" because they are so unlike the surrounding basins, dubbed "Grassland Seas."  (Can't have an island without a sea, eh?)

Each curve brings more fantastic views, but the very best are at the top. 

We are almost at the very top of this National Monument.  In the distance you see what we will discover later on:  Cochise's Stronghold!  These rhyolite hoodoos put me in mind of the Terra Cotta Army - those clay figures unearthed in China a few years ago.

But there is much, much more to see here...

Faraway Ranch, Arizona

Ah-ha!  There IS a Visitor Center.  It's not large - but it does exist.  I'm beginning to get excited!

The Erickson's first moved into the tiny house in the left of the display case in Bonita Canyon.  The small stone fort was built as a refuge from later threats of Indian raids though Cochise had recently surrendered, so the battle now was mostly between them and Mother Nature.  You can see how the ranch house progressed into the enormous guest house on the right that enveloped the original 1880's home. It was young Hildegarde that turned it into the guest house in 1917, serving meals and lodging to visitors from all over.  Lillian continued serving them until the 1970's.

In 1903, Neil Erickson got a job with the National Park Service, and in 1917 his job took them away. The three children continued with the ranching.  Finally, Lillian and her husband were the only ones left at Faraway.

Lillian and her husband, Ed Riggs, married in 1923.  They would take long walks in Bonita Canyon. According to Lysa Wegman - French author of the National Park Services' Faraway Ranch Special History Study - on one trip "they pushed into ... a tangled, boulder-strewn area impossible for horses to walk through.  There they were amazed to find remarkable rock formations only a short distance for Faraway Ranch."  That's when she dubbed this area the Wonderland of Rocks.

Both Ed and Lillian were college educated and knew how to get the Federal government to set aside this mountain for future generations to appreciate.  Chiricahua National Monument is the result. If you want to take a tour of Faraway, the Park Service interpreters give a five-star walking extravaganza of scenery and information.

Lillian, as a young woman, began to lose her eyesight and her hearing.  By 1942 she was blind.  Even so, every day, Lillian would sit down at her typewriter and record the day's events.  She said, "Just now it seems of small note to record the happenings of the last few days.  Fifty years hence, it may be significant.  If any of the doings of us common folks are ever significant."  Her diary is now in the Library of Congress!

Lillian must also have had a sense of humor.  She would play cards with the guests, but if she was the dealer ... well, her cards were marked in braille.  (What a hoot!)

I was very surprised (but I don't know why:  http://thetravelerstwo.blogspot.com/2013/11/fort-huachuca-arizona.html) to discover that the Buffalo Soldiers of the 10th Cavalry were sent to this area in 1885 to prevent the Chiricahua Apaches from using local water sources, to guard the mail, and to protect settlers and their livestock from raiding Apaches.  While here, the soldiers built a monument to President James Garfield who was assassinated in 1881.  They wrote inscriptions onto some of the stones that were used which Neil Erickson later rescued from souvenir hunters and incorporated the stones into a fireplace he was building.  You can now see those inscriptions when you tour Faraway Ranch.  (Very cool!)

Once again the Lord has blessed our travels with surprise after surprise - and, as usual, His best is yet to come.

Know therefore that the LORD thy God, he is God, the faithful God, which keepeth covenant and mercy with them that love him and keep his commandments to a thousand generations; Deuteronomy 7:9 KJV

Chiricahua National Monument

We've been driving through amber waves of grain for quite a while.  The prairie grass is waist high and as thick as can be.  It's January, but imagine this in another month or two when it might be as green as that bush for as far as you can see!  This would have been heaven for the Apache and their most valuable possession, the horse.

The surrounding mountains are wonderful to look at, so we are never bored.  But I still have that nagging feeling that I have dragged Granpa into a wild goose chase.  There certainly aren't a bunch of folks trying to find this - we've been alone on the road for quite awhile now.

Finally, we find the turn off for the Monument.  Just a couple more miles through the grass sea and I'll know if I have truly messed up Granpa's days off.

Hmmm.  We're at the entrance, but there's no one in attendance - further proof that we may be the only goofballs to try and come here.  We would use our Senior Pass, so they're not losing any money from us, but still.

Just past the entrance is a very small, wrought-iron fenced cemetery.  These were the very first white settlers to attempt ranching here!

Look at those dolls that child has!  

These are the Erickson's.  Emma and Neil married and immediately moved to this area.  Their first child, Lillian, was born at Fort Bowie.  Their other two children, Hildegarde and Ben, were born at a ranch close by.  All but Lillian are buried here.  Lillian grew up and became the "Lady Boss of Faraway Ranch,"and she and her husband continued living at the ranch until the late 1970's.  It was their love and appreciation for this mountain that led to it's becoming a National Monument.  Lillian is resting a few miles west of here in her husband's family cemetery.

(Well, that's encouraging.  If they thought is was pretty enough, their "wonderland of rocks," to create a tourist industry back in the early 1900's - how much traffic could there have been then - perhaps there's something to see here after all!)

We move on, hopeful (especially me!) of seeing something worthwhile.  And we were definitely not disappointed!

A Request for the Bionic Bumblebee Story

Long, long ago, in a faraway time and place we owned the Bionic Bumblebee.  She was a short-wheel base Chevy van that was probably one of the first conversion vans.  Her school-bus-yellow paint job with a wide dark brown stripe around her middle (kinda the reverse color pattern for a bumblebee) is how she got her name. My CB handle, of course, was ... wait for it ... the Queen Bee! The children were small; my oldest son was 6, the middle one was 5, and the wee one was just 2. Their father had left us, but for the time being I still had the Bionic Bumblebee. The interior was yellow and brown shag carpet on the floor, walls and ceiling.  The two front seats were captain chairs, the remainder of the van was custom.  There was a semi-circular, dark brown velour-covered sofa at the back doors with a half-circle foot rest that made the sofa into a double bed.  It could slide out and be replaced with a table.  In between the sofa and captains chairs was an under-the-counter refrigerator, a sink, and overhead cabinets.  S-w-e-e-t!!

It was probably January, and Granma Jo had come to spend the day with us.  Momma and I loved snow, and Oklahoma was scheduled to have a good bit of it.  So, we loaded up the boys and took off for Oklahoma.  It would only take us an hour or so to reach Turner Falls, and if the snow fall as forecast, Turner Falls is always a pretty visit.

The snow did cooperate - along with some ice, well, lots of ice.  I'm a really good, observant driver. Even Granpa's father, Daddy John, thought so, and that was a really great compliment to me! Granma Jo was a superb driver, too, and we had no qualms whatsoever about this adventure.

We got to Turner Falls over a thick coating of ice.  There were a few other folks around.  (See?  We aren't the only snowy nuts around!)  An RV was coming down the large hill/small mountain in the Park and had no problems.  Therefore, I thought I could make it up the same road.  I got up what I thought was enough speed to carry the Bee over the top - but, no-o-o-o!

Three-quarters of the way up we lost forward motion and began a backward slide.  Gently applying the brakes, we stopped.  Release the brake, add a tad of gas, an-n-d, the rear slips toward the edge of the cliff.  Brake on again, repeat the process, same result.  Brake on, release the brake with no gas. Better, but there is no steering the Bee.  Brake on. Amazingly, Granma Jo gets very nervous. I've never seen Granma Jo nervous. That's funny to me.

You see, the very worst thing that could happen is that we sit right here until a tow truck comes.  So, what's the big deal.  But apparently I was the only one that thought of that.

My oldest son walked up to the back of the captain's chairs.  A look in the rear-view mirror exposed the most frightened face he's ever put on.  Eyes the size of saucers!  (I suppose he had reached the age of wisdom.) The middle son had a "what now" kind of expression, and the youngest was simply having a ball running and jumping on the sofa. (Remember, this was a long time ago and there was no requirement for seat belts - in fact, there weren't any in the back of the van.)

Granma Jo and I discuss the possibilities for successful extraction from our predicament.  We had a blanket with us.  Maybe if we spread it out under the back wheels it would give us the traction we needed.  She hops out and, holding to the side of the Bee, attempts to spread it as best she can.

Brake off - and the rear heads for the cliff.  So Granma Jo insists on standing on the cliff side of the Bee and plans to push the Bee back toward the middle of the road. Granma Jo is impossible to stop once she gets something in her head.  (Now you know where I get it :-)  Now I'm very nervous.
In my mind's eye, I see the Bee continuing toward the cliff, but before it goes over - Granma Jo does!!

Larry is still petrified.  Jamie is waiting it out.  Christopher is jumping from window to window following Granma Jo as she moves around the Bee.

Inch by inch, slower than slow, we work our way down the mountain.  The hero of this story, according to her, unequivocally, is Granma Jo.  She will tell you in a heartbeat that she pushed the Bee back onto the road and down to the bottom of the hill all by her lonesome.  If you say so, Momma.  If you say so.

Safely down at the bottom we all decide that we'd had our adventure for the day, and head back home. It really was a memorable day - and I'd do it all over again.  (Really wish cell phones were equipped with cameras back then!  LOL!!)  As a matter of fact, Granpa and I think we'll try to find a snow-topped mountain this weekend.

Miscommunication Continues

This one is on me.  Ever since we were in Tombstone last year, I have wanted to go to Cochise's Stronghold.  I've been perusing the road atlas, and it looks to me like there is actually a road that goes right to it!  Just eyeballing it, I think we can get there, do a quicky tour and get back to Tucson for lunch and then over to Old Tucson before sundown.

Granpa trusts me, so he goes for it.  There is a loop road that exits the Intersate and re-enters the Interstate at almost the same spot.  If we take the second exit we can drop by the Chiricahua National Monument then loop back around to Cochies's Stronghold.  MY mistake was in not getting an actual physical address and putting it into Lil' Miss GPS for a time frame.

We hop on the Interstate and head south and south-er and finally follow the Interstate eastward.  It was noonish before we reached Willcox, left the Interstate and turned onto Hwy 186.  I'm getting a huge knot in my stomach.  What if the Chiricahua National Monument isn't anything more than the Sonoran Desert National Monument we went to last evening?  What if it turns out to just be a pile of rocks and an interpretive sign.  Boy!  Will Granpa be chapped or what!

Suddenly Granpa brakes and hangs a left onto a wide dirt road.  (Am I in trouble??)  Then he points to a mileage sign:  Fort Bowie National Historic Site.  I can't believe it.  Granpa's not only patient, he is thoughtful!  He knows that I would love to see this place, too, regardless of the hands on the clock!
(It occurs to me that youngsters won't even know what "hands on the clock" means because everything is digital these days :-()

Well, I'll try to find some info really quick on my handy-dandy Amazon Fire tablet that we won in a contest with one of our companies.

Hmmm.  Only adobe ruins of the Fort left - and we'd have to hike 1.5 miles to see those.  It's a dirt road, too, that we're on.  It only takes a couple of minutes to decide that the time wasn't worth the trip, so Granpa makes a u-turn and heads back to pavement.  (But he's made a precious impression on me.  Even after almost thirty years he can still make me feel special!)

Spouse Miscommunication? Naaaawwww!

A museum in Scottsdale, Arizona took notice of my blogging about our treks around Arizona, so Granpa decided that we should pay them a visit.  While we're in the area, he says, let's go to Old Tucson.  At least that's what I heard.

So, as the offical housing finder/hotel reservationist, I check out the road atlas and find a nice-sized town between Scottsdale and Tucson.  Casa Grande is right on the interstate, and the price is very right.

Granpa however, when we get there, is a bit miffed.  The long and the short of it is that he thought the museum was in Tucson, so why didn't we get a hotel in Tucson-proper.  It is my opinion that his brain was fixed on Old Tucson and therefore never heard "Scottsdale."

Regardless, we got sidetracked from even those things six ways from the middle, so our whole trip was laughable confusion.  I was very impressed with both Granpa and I for how we muddled through the trip without ever losing patience with each other. First things first I suppose is the best way to share this adventure.

With daylight left, Granpa decides he wants to go west just a tad and check out something he saw on the road atlas:  Sonoran Desert National Monument.  So we begin the drive west on Hwy 84. Remember the word, "Desert."  What we discover are miles of plowed fields with beautiful sprouting green plants.

Then I notice something very familiar along the roadside: it looks exactly like tufts of cotton from cotton fields back home!  THEN I see something I really know!  Cotton bales!!

Cotton?  Really?  Growing in the Sonoran Desert???  Who knew?  Really!  Who knew this and never told anyone!  And when we slow down and look closer, there's even a cotton gin up and running. Behind the gin, I see something I have not seen before.  Round bales of processed cotton.  Very cool.

And not very far down the road at all we see a second thing that surprises both of us:  feed lots jam packed with cattle.  Oh, the stink is unimaginable!  (This is what Ft. Worth, Texas used to be famous for.  Ranchers would bring their cattle to Ft. Worth and pen them in feed lots to fatten them for sale while waiting for trains to take them - or their carcases - to markets north and east.  That's how Ft. Worth got its nickname:  Cow Town.  The feed lots are long gone to more rural areas now but city fathers have clung to the nickname and made a tourist attraction out of it.  Trust me, this smell is not conducive to tourism!)

Cotton fields require a lot of water; Cattle require a lot of water - and there are a whole lot of cows here.  In the desert.  Where there is no water.  I'm also confused by the fact that these all look like Jersey's - dairy cattle - and they take even more water.  (Why would there be so many dairy cattle up for slaughter?  Maybe a cattle rancher or dairy farmer that reads this will be able to tell me.) (Maybe they're not Jerseys?)

So, as you can see, we are well down the path of distraction six ways from the middle...

Beyond these surprises we drive and drive and drive and all we see are Saguaro cactus in the Sonoran Desert National Monument.  We love Saguaro, but we thought there would be more to see like a Visitors Center or something spectacular like the Crested Saguaro.  (See my blog posts, http://thetravelerstwo.blogspot.com/2013/12/crested-saguaro.html and http://thetravelerstwo.blogspot.com/2013/12/saguaro-national-park.html )  They are so cool!  I spend my time checking the tips of all the Saguaro I can lay my eyes on, but nary a one is crested.  Granpa is a bit frustrated, but consoles himself at Golden Corral, and we go back to the hotel.  Praise the Lord for His wisdom and vision:  Tomorrow is a new day!

Greater Roadrunners and Donkeys

We decide to take a quick trip up the ever-scenic road to Oatman.  The only new pictures to share would be those of a couple of roadrunners and some wild burros.  We haven't seen roadrunners in quite a long time. They're pretty shy dudes, and when you do see them they are always, well, on the run!

A member of the New World ground cuckoos, he has a crest of feathers (when he chooses to show them off) on the top of his head.








This is one of the Greater Roadrunners. (There's also a Lesser Roadrunner)  It can outrace a human reaching speeds up to 20 mph. (When I was a lil' girl visiting grandparents in the Texas Panhandle, I tried to catch one.  Not a chance!)

They aren't small birds, either.  From the tip of its beak to the tip of its tail, adult roadrunners will typically be two feet in length.  They are fast enough and big enough to kill rattlesnakes, which is good, because they thrive in harsh landscapes where rattlesnakes like to slither around.

They are elusive, but thriving - even extending their habitat as far as Louisiana and Missouri.  If you've never seen a roadrunner you will instantly recognize it when it streaks along the roadside holding its body parallel to the ground and using its long tail like a rudder.  They're fun to watch!

They can become accustom to having humans in their environment, but I doubt you'd ever catch one.

It's strange to see burros / donkeys walking around wild.  Down in the valley where it is relatively warmer they seem pretty happy.  But up at the top closer to Oatman, they look like they're cold as cucumbers!  Must be the snow ...

The Long Way Home

Granpa's still bummed about the missing camera.  I'm just very out of phase.  I do not like this Vegas place. I do not like its vibes and space.

Granpa has had a plan all along to go home through Red Rock Canyon.  It's just 17 miles west of the Strip, and the road its on circles back into our highway home.  Again, we have no clue what to expect, but co-workers said it's a must.  Once more, off we go into the wild blue yonder, bummed and phased out, but ever the intrepid explorers.

Nestled in the Mojave Desert, Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area is almost 200,000 acres of a young person's paradise. Along the mere 13 mile scenic loop are 30-plus miles of hiking and biking trails as well as opportunities for horseback riding and rock climbing.  There is a visitor center, bookstore, and wildlife.  LOTS of wildlife:  wild burros (we call 'em donkeys in Texas), bighorn sheep, mountain lions, bobcats, a few wild horses, golden eagles, red tailed hawks and the tiny hummingbirds.  There are even occasional sightings of brides and grooms!

Over a million folks - well, make that a million and two - visit here each year from all over the world. But we weren't the first ones here.  Folks have been camping out here for about 10,000 years.  As kids will be kids, they left graffiti behind just like kids of today, only we marvel at their "petroglyphs."  While the kids were off into mischief, mom, just like today, was home grinding the corn and making supper.  You can still see the rocks and fire pits as proof!

But we have come to check out the color of the geology.  You see, a gazillion years ago, two of earth's plates came crashing into each other (kinda in slow motion of course).  One plate was red sandstone and one was grey limestone.  Today that spot is called the Keystone Thrust Fault.

The stunning red color comes from centuries of rust.  No, really!  Rust is oxidized iron and over the eons the iron oxide created the deep crimson colors that gave the place its name.

There were folks climbing all over the place.  

There were even moms and dads teaching their children how to rappel!

I agree with all of the websites giving this place four and a half stars.  I don't know if it was gaining distance from the Las Vegas strip or the grandeur of this place, but I do believe I'm coming back into phase!

It's a New Day in Vegas

There was not so much as a cup of tea served to guests at the Palms Place, so we found a great restaurant for breakfast and then went in search of what we actually came to Vegas for:  a museum.

Let's see what there is to choose from...

Carroll Shelby Museum
Atomic Testing Museum
Boulder City - Hoover Dam Museum
Bruno's Indian Museum
Clark County Heritage Museum
Imperial Palace Auto Collection
Las Vegas Natural History Museum
The Mob Museum
Thunderbird Museum

Central Nevada Museum
Downtown Neon Gallery
Goldwell Open Air Museum
Las Vegas Art Museum (at UNLV)
Las Vegas Signs Project
Walker African-American Museum
Neon Museum
Nevada State Museum
Searchlight Museum

Think we can manage all of those in a single day?  AND take a trip through Red Rock Canyon on the way home?  Ahhhh, no.

So Granpa opts for the Las Vegas Natural History Museum, and we get there just as the doors open. Remember, Granpa still has the blues about losing his newest camera.  All he has is his poor old Olympus and my iPhone (because his Android based phone won't hold a charge.)

This puts me in mind of a story one of our sons tells of an owl coming down in the woods behind his house.  He and one of our grandsons were tiptoeing around trying to find it when some tiny movement almost under his foot caught his eye - and then the owl lifted off soundlessly and flew away.  Obviously, this guy was a fan of "stand your ground" and had no intention of flying off.  (At least that's how the taxidermist staged him.)  Owls pose like this to make predators think that they are larger than they are and scare them off.

We've talked many times about adding a peacock and some peahens to our menagerie back in Texas, but I hear they can be really, really mean and that they make a great deal of racket.  I suppose I will, however, forever mull the idea over in the back of my mind because they are so-o-o-o beautiful!



From a really large bird, we go to the smallest bird, a hummingbird.  They are also beautiful but totally unable to be domesticated.  I have see folks get them to land on their hands, but they should never be caged.  How large is that hummingbird nest and egg?  Well, compare it to the print on that name tag! February is when the hummingbirds start showing up in East Texas after their winter migration into Mexico.  Can't wait to get back there and hear them humming all around our porches!



The museum also had a section of aquariums full of live critters.  This one pretty much reflected what Granpa looked like:

We learned that toads (not frogs, toads) don't drink water through their mouths.  Instead, they absorb water through very thin skin on their lower abdomens called a seat patch.

There were had animated dinosaurs:

And animated hatching of dinosaur eggs - but they didn't make much noise, and it was kinda slow-motion stuff.

Now, we believe in Creationism, and I get pretty testy when folks try to explain away a worldwide flood - especially when we see evidence of sharks inhabiting what is now mountains in a desert.  But then again, I don't believe in global warming either.  How arrogant of mankind to think that their presence on this planet will kill it! And the fuss over cow flatulents creating too much carbon dioxide.  I'm thinkin' a brontosaurus put out a whole lot more flatulents than any cow ever did!  Ditto for volcanos, too!

There were also had live seahorses!  The light blue spot on the side of its neck is in fact a fin which is it's means of locomotion.  (See my blog post on the seahorse I saw, caught, released and video-taped in Kaua'i.  http://thetravelerstwo.blogspot.com/2011/08/monk-seals-and-seahorses.html )

And, for my friends Paul and Joann Steinfort, live snakes:

There were scads more things to see in here - and they were all wonderfully showcased - but they topped it off with none other than King Tut, who probably felt perfectly at home in the Nevada desert.

I wonder why emoticons are not available based on this hieroglyph decoding chart ...

There Is More To Vegas Than Casinos

Okey-dokey.  We're in Vegas, for better or worse.  Got a deal at Palm's Place Resort, I go in to register, and they won't let me.  Reservations were made in John's name - gotta be John.  Back out to the car, he grabs his camera bag and overnight suitcase and goes in while I park the car.  He's done and waiting for me when I walk through the door.  Up to the 12th floor and we walk into our huge room.  A little worn, but nice.  The monster flat-screen TV's have a personalized welcome for John. (They could have made it a bit more personal by saying "Welcome, John Watts..." but John liked it.)

There are in fact TWO huge flat screens practically side by side.  One is for watching from the sofa, the other is for watching from bed.  Oh, and there's one in the bathroom, too, for watching from the Jacuzzi tub.

There's a full stainless steel kitchen, but we're only going to be there one night, so no cooking going on.  The view of The Strip is pretty good. 

The sun is setting, so I ask Granpa to take some pictures from the balcony before it gets dark. Lookin', lookin', lookin'. The camera bag is NOT in the room.  We both know that he had it on his shoulder when he went in to register.  Obviously he left it in the lobby where he was sitting waiting for me.  He's sick with misery!  While he goes down to the lobby to ask if the camera was turned in by some good Samaritan, I spend some private time musing on how much I don't like Las Vegas. (But, of course, it was our fault, not Vegas's.)  This actually makes us even - I left a camera bag on the plane the last time we came home from Hawai'i.  He didn't fuss at me then, no need for me to fuss at Granpa now.  Besides, he's mad enough at himself.

He's not any happier when he comes back, so I know instantly there was no camera turned in.  No worries I say.  It's okay.  We have the old Olympus and both cell phones, too.  But he's not a happy camper.

I give him time to settle his stomach and deal with the misery, and then suggest we go on out to eat. We find a really nice Chinese restaurant with super nice staff and great food.  That helped to settle Granpa down, but now he's got the same gut instinct about Vegas that I had.  The people may be great, but the vibes are not so good.

When we check out, I ask about the camera again.  The desk clerk off-handedly said that we could get on the hotel website and register with their lost-and-found.  If it's located they will ship it to us. That wasn't the most encouraging conversation, but I did exactly that when we got back to Kingman. 

Almost two weeks went by without a response.  We bit the bullet and ordered another camera.  I managed to get Granpa to upgrade from the lost Nikon -- but he would only order a refurb.  It took a week to receive the new one, and Granpa was walking around feeling naked without his camera.

The day the new Nikon was delivered ... the old, lost Nikon was also delivered to us.  We are now the proud owners of TWO Nikons (so I guess I get the old one??)

Las Vegas

Well, Granpa has finally forced me to agree to a night in Las Vegas.  I don't want to.  It's not that we're gonna step foot into a casino or even step out of the hotel after dark, I just plain don't want to. That city gives me the creeps.  Would I live there?  If the Lord directed our steps.  But we'd live in the suburbs, and it would probably seem pretty normal.

I love the snow-capped mountains in the background,

but I don't cotton to the smog hanging over the city.

Those electric power towers look like ships masts.  They are all over Las Vegas.  Wonder why?

But before we even get into the city, God blesses ME with something I never expected to see just on the outskirts of town!!

No, they are not statues.  They're very real.

They are magnificent!! and standing right beside the highway!!

I wonder how the obvious leader got the tip of his horn broken off?

Granpa took so many fabulous photos.  I wish I could share them all.  

Everyone hates other people's vacation photos; everyone loves animal pictures.